


Jumper

by Sophia_Bee



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2386451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the bridge, Logan stands at the precipice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jumper

Don’t push me, I am not okay.

Another sip from the flask burns down his throat and he slips a little as he turns on the edge. His foot sends a small shower of rocks and pebbles into the emptiness and he never hears if they hit the water.

Lynn had always hated flying. She would sit in the living room for hours before they left for the airport, sipping from a glass until she stumbled a little when Aaron came and told her it was time to go. And Logan would sit next to her on the plane as she popped breath mints and flirted with the flight attendants or the businessman sitting next to her, and when she wasn’t looking he would sneak a sip of the drink that was always in front of her.

There wasn’t much between numbness and pain in the Echolls household and Logan was constantly being pulled between them.

What did she think as she stood on this same ledge? Was she still afraid of flying, afraid of the expanse of space between the cement and the water? Or did she finally feel free? Did she have any last thoughts as she fell through the emptiness, flashing over the events of her life, what she did right and what she did wrong?

Would he?

The cars rushed by leaving clouds of exhaust and dust in their wake, no one noticing the figure teetering alone on the cement edge. Logan wants someone to care because of all the things he doesn’t want in life, mostly he doesn’t want to die.

He’d almost said that to her one time as she kissed him hard on the mouth, her tongue slipping across his. He’d almost muttered those words against her lips because he knew she was the only on in the entire world who really could save him. And maybe she would have understood and then she would have known the he could never…ever…in a million years…. And she would have never stood on the beach, looking at him like there was nothing to separate her from Lilly, wondering if he would hurt her as well.

Once he tried to tell Lilly that he didn’t want to die. Tried to say it in a way she would understand, but she just laughed and flipped her hair over her shoulder and told Logan that he needed to shut up and kiss her, and Logan had pretended that the kiss was all he needed.

Veronica was different. Her pain matched his, fit against him in a way no one had ever before. And he never found a way to say it, but somehow he knew she’d understand that the only people who didn’t want to die were those who knew it was inevitable, a dark strand woven through the tapestry of the future.

Fucking joke he told himself as he felt the wind start to pick up. Except he knew it wasn’t and even though she’d left him in pieces on the beach, he still knew she was the only one who could put him back together. And that hurt more than anything.

He put a foot out over the edge, testing the nothingness below him, and he teetered a little then put his foot back onto the cement.

Did she feel when her body hit the water, broken bones piercing into her lungs, blood filling the spaces in her skull. Or was it just falling into blackness, taking away the feelings in a way the gin never could. Did she wish she could rewind, take it all back? Or was she finally free?

Did Lilly feel anything when the ashtray hit her skull? Did she gasp for breath and look into the face of her killer? Or was it just happiness one moment, then nothing the next?

Logan stretched his arms out, spread his fingers, and looked up into the pitch-black sky. It should be different. And he screamed into the nothingness.

“Fuck you!”

Fuck you, Lilly. Fuck you for loving shot glasses and Weevil and everyone else but him.

Fuck you Aaron. Fuck you for loving power and control more than your son.

Fuck you Lynn. Fuck you for leaving and making everything spin out of control.

And he wanted to say ‘fuck you’ to Veronica Mars but he couldn’t. Because he understood why she’d looked at him like she did. He understood that his anger and hatred and words were coming to haunt him in the look on her face. And he understood that he couldn’t push all the blame onto her.

Fucking therapy moment courtesy of vodka and betrayal.

None of this should have happened.

Lynn shouldn’t be floating somewhere out there, blank and bloated, wrapped in a shroud of seaweed. She should be at home, cooking dinner, laughing at the bad movie Logan is watching on TV, asking him how his day at school was.

Lilly shouldn’t be just a memory of blood-spattered concrete, a headline for the people of Neptune to gossip about over coffee. She should be licking the side of his neck in the shallow end of the Kane pool, her hair smelling like vanilla and musk, sliding her leg up his, whispering dirty secrets in his ear.

He shouldn’t be there, standing on the edge, tasting exhaust and dust, the wind warm against his face. He should be on the beach, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his arms wrapped around her waist, her head tucked against his chest, their faces lit amber from the bonfire. He should be kissing her right now, feeling her laugh against his mouth as his hands slip under her shirt then feeling her shiver at the touch of his fingers. He should be whispering in her ear everything he never found a way to say.

“I loved you, Veronica Mars.”

His words were whipped away by the wind and the sound of the cars. There was no one to hear them, no one to know they were true. His face was wet and he could taste the salt of tears on his tongue, and he hadn’t realized he’d been crying. And Logan took in a deep, shaky breath.

“I don’t want to die.”

Then he stepped forward.


End file.
